The Loft Verse
by trufflemores
Summary: Season 6-centric. Blaine moves in with Kurt, Rachel, Santana, and Dani at their loft in New York. Chaos and shenanigans ensue. Primarily fluff, but has a story line as well as angstier portions. Sexytimes implied. Elliot and Cooper will also be making fairly regular appearances. Kurt/Blaine, Santana/Dani.
1. 0: Prologue

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Glee or any of its characters; Ryan Murphy and Co. hold that honor. I'm simply writing this for fun, not profit.

**First installment in the loft 'verse! In which Blaine and Kurt share an unexpected moment at Blaine's graduation, circa May 2013. Mostly cuddles and fluff and implied sexytimes with a bit of angst on the side.**

**~3,000 words**

"Kurt!" The word startled out of Blaine, a high, happy exultation punched out of his lungs as when he saw Kurt. He barely made it off the stage before Kurt pulled him into a tight hug, Blaine's own hands gripping the back of his vest tightly, heedless of the pricey fabric he was doubtless wrinkling. "I can't believe you're here," he breathed, clinging to him, his face buried against his shoulder and neck as he tried to nuzzle both, graduation cap sliding hopelessly to the side. "How did you –?"

"I caught a flight," Kurt breathed, laughter and relief warbling in his voice as he clung to Blaine, heedless of the distant applause of other families watching their children make the passage from adolescence to adulthood in a slow, unbroken line. He was shaking slightly with some indefinable emotion and Blaine tugged him so that they were further off-stage, loosening his grip so he could hug him properly. "I wanted to be here," he added seriously, looking around.

"I thought you said you had work?" Blaine asked, because the last thing he wanted was for Kurt to put his life on hold for something as simple as a graduation ceremony. McKinley and its affairs were irrelevant compared to New York; Kurt's life and career depended on appealing to his superiors, and skipping out on work was not part of the agreement. Kurt didn't look troubled, though, instead reaching up to brush some of the hair that had come loose under Blaine's cap, removing the cap after a moment's thought and setting it aside so he could smooth the hair underneath it as well, surprisingly un-gelled for a change.

"I did," he admitted, and Blaine's heart clenched for a moment, another soft, remonstrative _Kurt _on his lips before Kurt hushed him. "I was able to reschedule. Don't worry about it."

Blaine hummed, struggling with the desire to simply kiss him and never stop and reprimand him for choosing him and _Ohio _over his job and the allures of New York. When Kurt slid his hands up and down his back just so, bunching the robes slightly and making Blaine shiver, he couldn't help himself, leaning forward to seal their lips in a brief, tantalizing kiss.

"God, I missed you so much," he breathed, because even six weeks apart had been a strain for them. They'd spent countless hours discussing their engagement already, and they'd Skyped almost daily and texted all the time, but there was something about _seeing _Kurt, feeling his smooth, silky skin under his fingertips that amplified the effect tenfold.

Kurt was always available to him, but to have him _there _was a different matter entirely.

"Kitty's, uh – Kitty's having a graduation party," he prompted, swallowing because Kurt's thumbs were at his hips and tracing little circles, barely felt through the heavy fabric. "If you – if you wanted to go –"

"I was sort of hoping we could spend the night at your house," Kurt said instead lightly. "If that's okay with you? I haven't seen you in over a month." He pressed another, almost needy kiss to his cheek, and Blaine melted, holding onto Kurt, only vaguely aware of their intermittent applause at their backs. The shadows were mercifully heavy backstage; even the most scrutinizing eye would only detect two bodies, intertwined, faceless and at ease from this distance.

Kurt released him once they reached the backstage doors, nudging one open and tugging Blaine into the empty hallway. The contrast was almost blinding, forcing Blaine to blink several times as he stood and beheld Kurt, hair smoothed up into a stylish sweep, every lean muscle accentuated perfectly by the sunlight. Unable to help himself he leaned forward and cupped the back of his neck to kiss him, insisting huskily, "You're so beautiful," while Kurt just smiled against his lips, kissing him back deeply.

By the time they broke apart Blaine had forgotten about the hallway and the world beyond entirely, conscious only of Kurt's arms around his waist and his own a little higher on Kurt's. They were perfectly misaligned, just the slightest height difference that meant Blaine fit snugly into the curves of Kurt's body, and even with the intrusive graduation robes preventing the heated skin-to-skin contact he suddenly craved, it was still an undeniably perfect fit.

Blaine kissed along his jaw, letting out a soft whine of disappointment when Kurt pushed him gently away. "If you keep doing that," he warned huskily, that raspier, lower octave that always sent electricity rippling down Blaine's spine, that made his knees weak and his heart race, "we won't make it to your house."

A shiver coursed down Blaine's spine at the thought of just going for it, damning the consequences and finding some abandoned closet or bathroom or even one of the locker rooms and finding completion there. The temptation was strong – almost overwhelmingly so, Kurt's body was _divine _– but he resisted, nodding generously instead.

"Okay," he said, and the word clicked in his throat, and Kurt smiled at him as he reached up to toy with a strand of his loosened hair, tugging him along by the collar a few steps playfully. "Wherever I go," he mused, "you follow."

He let the silence hang between them as he released Blaine, standing alone in the middle of one of McKinley's hallways with only sunlight to keep them company. Blaine stared at him for a few moments, dazzled by his presence and dazed by the implication, before comprehension swept over him. "I'm going to New York," he said firmly, and it felt different to say it aloud, to tell _Kurt_, when before the only person he had been arguing with had been himself.

Something in Kurt's shoulders eased, then, a heaviness dropping from his posture that made him appear at once more relaxed and determined. "You don't have to decide today," he reminded, almost haltingly, because they had had this argument too many times before.

_What if I'm not meant for performance? Medicine is a practical field, Kurt, and I want to help people. I want to change lives. If I never make it in show business, then I might never do that._

Of course, that had led to Kurt angrily demanding if _his _life lacked meaning just because he hadn't scored a Broadway role yet, to which Blaine had quickly rallied to say that of course not, _of course not, Kurt._ He was already changing people, accepting Elliot into his band and Dani into his life as another performer. He might not have the breakthrough Broadway role like Rachel did, but he was powerful and independent and undeterred; he wouldn't let setbacks change him.

_So what are you so afraid of? _Kurt had demanded of him. _Why won't you pursue something that you love?_

_Because I'm afraid of failure, _Blaine had forced himself to say. _I don't want to find out that I'm not good enough._

Something in Kurt's expression had softened, then. Something that had been high and strained in his voice eased as he said simply, _You are._

That was all it had taken to unravel the heart of the matter. Blaine sat back and, rocked by Kurt's quiet confidence in him, listened. He listened to Kurt describe his own uncertainty about his ability to succeed in musical theater – twice Blaine had to suppress the reflexive urge to tell him that _of course _he would make it big, because he honestly didn't know if Kurt would – and understood why Kurt had formed a band in the first place.

_If you want to be a doctor, then I won't stop you, _he had insisted. _I won't fight your dreams. But now isn't the time to settle, Blaine. Now is the time to take risks. I know you're scared. I am, too. I can't promise that it will end well but I _can _promise that it's more worthwhile to fight and fail for something like this than to shelve it and accept something that isn't your passion._

They hadn't spoken much on the matter, since. Blaine could see the skepticism in Kurt's expression, the wary hope that wanted to bloom there, and he curled his fingers around Kurt's waist again, drawing him close. "Wherever you go," he echoed softly, kissing him, "I follow. This is what I want. This is … _exactly _what I want. To be close to you, in a big city where we can both decide what we really want in life. A place where the possibilities _are _endless and it won't impact our choices just because we're gay."

Kurt's eyes were a little mistier, then, because they both knew the implication.

_Someday,_ Blaine thought, squeezing his hand around Kurt's waist, grateful for the tiny, almost imperceptible press of metal against his back as Kurt cradled him in return. They had yet to select a matching ring for Blaine, but they were in no rush: early on they had decided not to plan the wedding any sooner than a year, and Blaine felt relieved (after the initial panic that Kurt might not want this, after all, had subsided) at the breathing room.

He realized that they had time for this, too, and he gave Kurt's hand a squeeze as he pulled away from him, smiling softly. "I'm so glad you're here," he said seriously, still a little disbelieving.

"My dad agreed on the condition that we accept it as a belated anniversary gift," Kurt explained, linking their hands and pulling Blaine down the hall. "You know. Since we basically celebrate it every year, anyway."

"Of course." Blaine smiled at the thought, at the first time they ever kissed. He glanced sideways at Kurt as they walked, struck by how much more mature he looked, how his beauty had sharpened and intensified and _glowed, _no longer dependent on whether or not other people liked him but originating from an inward confidence, instead. Blaine had seen him bruised and battered, weathered by the world and forced to carry on in silent endurance. Those grim lines had disappeared from the corners of his mouth, replaced by a slight unmistakable upward tilt that had Blaine smiling in return.

The distance was short but the car ride forever by the time they stepped inside Blaine's house, Kurt crowding him against the door the second shoes were off and coats halfway discarded. Blaine helped him wrestle with the robes, laughing in spite of himself when his head got caught in the hood as Kurt made a disgruntled, decidedly unsexy noise as he helped free him from it. All thoughts of Kurt as anything but the single most attractive man alive vanished from his mind as quickly as they came, however, as soon as their lips were sealed against, Kurt's fingers already tugging insistently at his waistband.

"Your parents?" Kurt breathed.

Blaine shook his head, assuring quickly, "No, no, it's okay," as he worked on freeing Kurt's shirt from his belt. "I just need you so _much._"

Kurt made a soft sound of agreement, already tugging him inexorably towards the stairs. "C'mon," he urged, and Blaine followed, losing himself to Kurt's _everything _as he tumbled back onto the bed and pulled Kurt down with him.

. o .

He awoke first hours later, Kurt's cheek pillowed against his bare chest and mouth slightly open as he snored softly. They were still only partially clothed, sheets somehow replaced. Blaine couldn't recall who had done that – he suspected Kurt; Kurt was always more practical – but it didn't seem to matter at all as he held Kurt close, listening to his sleep-heavy breathing.

New York was only a few months away, he realized, conscious of the bed beneath his back, the familiar walls on all four sides. Countless moments had been captured and memorialized through pictures along his walls; there was even a small shrine dedicated to tasteful photos of Kurt and him. All of it was familiar, the bed sheets, the floors, even the dim lighting that came the lamp on the nightstand. Careful not to dislodge Kurt from his perch, Blaine reached over to flick it over, relaxing in the darkness as he cradled Kurt closer, conscious of his warmth and incredible pliability under his hands.

Even as he ran his fingers experimentally down Kurt's back, just a slow, steady trace of warm, smooth skin, he was aware of how precious moments like this were, a countdown already set in his mind. In less than three months, this room would no longer be _home._ This room would be his first home, his first shelter from the dark world beyond that sometimes inspired and sometimes hurt him, but it would never be the same home again, not after New York. New York would change him, he was sure. He had been terrified that it would change Kurt, but, bearing witness to the transformation, he was satisfied.

Kurt was . . . Kurt _glowed. _ While Blaine had felt almost suffocatingly confined to McKinley near the end, a bout of senioritis almost costing him his Tisch scholarship, he had pulled through to keep his grades steady with a little gentle coaching from Kurt.

_Just six more months, _he would chant, and then, _five more, four more, three more. _ He had only understood during those weeks how Kurt had felt a year prior when Blaine had accused him of focusing solely on New York; it had been the only thing keeping him sane through the longest hours apart, _New York, New York, New York._

Some nights they would just leave their Skype windows open so they wouldn't have to say goodbye, Kurt inevitably rising and leaving before Blaine and returning well-groomed and ready for the day as Blaine sleepily blinked back at him, only half-conscious. It was in those hours, whether late or early, that Blaine unwound, let his guards down and the exhaustion of being apart show.

It hadn't been purely an exercise in Kurt expressing pity for Blaine, though; there had been a mutuality to it that eased some of Blaine's distress, an understanding that made each day a little easier to bear, each morning a little less disappointing to wake up to.

Even as he tightened his grasp a little around Kurt, savoring his real, tangible presence, he couldn't help but be grateful for those moments as well when the most they had been able to do was sleep with each other worlds apart.

_Not anymore, _he thought, and he couldn't define the tight, borderline panicky feeling in his stomach.

He had always wanted to graduate and go to college, get a degree and start making a change in the world. Singing and performing had always been his passions, but he kept his grades up and studied hard in all of his courses, preparing for the inevitable speeches that careers in performance were unstable and often fruitless and it would be better to aim for a more practical career. Medicine felt safe, because it lacked the cynicism of law without conceding any prestige. It was less detached than engineering and more stimulating than other sciences. Briefly he had considered becoming a teacher as well, discarding the idea once he realized how difficult it would be to find a long-lasting career.

No, doctors were safe because doctors were needed and appreciated and well-liked. They performed a vital service to society that could not be replaced. He would do well if he studied hard and learned to enjoy his work, both of which he was confident he could do so if need be.

Under pressure, he had almost resigned himself to such a fate before Kurt intervened. With weeks' worth of pent-up self-doubt under the surface, it had been easy for him to oppose Kurt's initial doubt and openly reject his suggestion that he remain in performance.

Kurt had been able to pull him away from resignation, however, because Kurt was someone that had refused to let anyone else discourage him. He had refused to accept that musical theater would never work and instead had embraced his passion whole-heartedly. He had risen from the mires of Ohio to form an indie band at New York, work at a performing diner and even score a seat at NYADA. Blaine marveled that the same person that felt so fragile, so vulnerable underneath his hands was also the same person that fought for a Vogue dot com internship and made his dreams _happen._

He hadn't achieved all of them, not by a long shot, but he had made progress toward them. So much in so little time, too, a dizzying, invigorating prospect.

Holding him close and breathing slowly, staring at the ceiling, Blaine tried not to feel overwhelmed by it all, the expectations. So much had been building for so long that he didn't know how to feel now that it had arrived.

Grateful that Kurt was there, he decided firmly, resting his cheek against his hair and closing his eyes again. Grateful that he had an amazing fiancé that would support him and love him and want him no matter which path he chose. Grateful that New York was an option, that musical theater was an option, that _living with Kurt _full-time, twenty-four seven was an option.

He didn't know when he finally drifted back to sleep, engulfed by Kurt's warmth, but he did know – with every fiber of his being – that he was safe, and held, and loved.

And that was all that mattered.

* * *

**Author's Notes**: Hello, everyone! My latest endeavor in the Glee fandom. More to come soon!

I hope you enjoyed.


	2. 1: Moving In

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Glee or any of its characters; Ryan Murphy and Co. hold that honor. I'm simply writing this for fun, not profit.

**In which Blaine finally moves out and moves in! Just a fluffy, slightly angsty piece on what happens when Blaine finally joins the New York crew.**

**~2,300 words**

Leaving Ohio was somehow more and less sentimental than Blaine had thought it would be.

He had packed his boxes starting three weeks in advance and by early August, he was ready to go. While classes wouldn't start for another two weeks, he had wanted time to acclimate to his new living quarters (and Rachel, and Santana, _and _Dani, if Kurt's stories could be believed). He would also need time to acclimate to _New York _before the craziness of college set in, and so the plan had always been to leave a little earlier than his peers.

He had been braced to be overwhelmed when the day finally arrived, to be paralyzed with trepidation and regret. He was leaving everything he knew behind for something that he couldn't know would succeed. The prospect of trying to make it in New York as an artist was debilitating at times, tension tightening around his chest even as he smiled for his parents and assured them half a dozen times that he had his plans worked out and he would be fine. He would be with Kurt. Kurt wouldn't let him drown.

Still, he had planned ahead, hoping to dilute the raw change of the inevitable over time. First and foremost on his list had been tying up loose ends with friends.

Sam and he had already had their big moments during the spring, bonding when Kurt and he were on the rocks and settling into a comfortable space between close friends and resigned seniors until the very end, hugging it out at Nationals and wordlessly agreeing not to make false promises to keep in touch after that. They were still friends, but the likelihood of meeting up with Sam when Sam was already planning on moving back to Kentucky to help his parents out didn't factor into Blaine's plans, so he knew that he needed to accept and move on from the fact that his time with Sam was over. Sam knew it, too, which helped ease some of the pressure off him; he wasn't sure that he wouldn't agree to something foolish like meeting back in Ohio if it wasn't already in their plans, just so he could see him again and recapture some of that old high school glory.

He had Kurt to look forward to. He had Kurt and New York to look forward to, and it was enough to tide him over the initial panic that everything he had latched onto and taken comfort from for so long was being slowly pried from his fingers.

Sam was only the tip of the iceberg, though. He had saved Tina until only two weeks prior to his departure, living in a world of almost blissful ignorance in the intervening time, still keenly aware of every passing day and the urgency it carried. It wasn't that he didn't want to leave: he _wanted _to be with Kurt. He _ached _to be with Kurt, but facing Tina to finally say good-bye had been hard. She was the first one to cry over his imminent departure. (And, unintentionally, the first one to make _him _cry, even though he could never claim to do anything but wear his heart on his sleeve). It had been a cathartic experience for both of them, because Tina was leaving soon, too, and they had to accept it.

Marley had cried, too, but her tears had been restrained to watery smiles. Jake and Ryder had both been present the last time the four of them had met up for lunch, both dry-eyed and hard-smiled, reluctant to say what was on their minds. (_You're leaving us?_)

Artie had left barely two weeks into the summer with promises to email Blaine if any golden opportunities arose in his filming career, and Kitty and Unique had largely accepted his departure the day he graduated, refusing to meet separately (not that he had, admittedly, pressed them to).

No, once he had said his good-byes and focused solely on the logistics of moving to New York, he was okay. It was exciting, dizzying, overwhelming at times: he'd sit on the edge of his bed and stare at the boxes accumulating around him, breathing and imagining being in the loft in another four weeks. Three weeks. Two weeks. One week. It was an incredible idea, an almost incomprehensible prospect, and ultimately, an exhilarating goal.

One week.

One week until he could live with Kurt in New York. One week until the dream would be realized and he wouldn't have to sleep alone or wake up to silence. One week until his days could be filled with nothing but Kurt and the last weeks of summer, just like old times again.

One more week. He couldn't wait.

He couldn't sleep at all that last week, either, prowling his room at nights and catching cat naps when he could during the day. He had little else to occupy him but _New York, _his Skype calls with Kurt lasting for hours at a time. Kurt was excited, too; it was easy to tell by the way he beamed every time Blaine called him, already rambling off on where they would put things and what they _had _to do as soon as he got there.

And then it was there. One moment Blaine was staring blankly at his ceiling in Ohio, waiting for the day to arrive, and the next he was standing in their apartment, unable to believe that it was _real._

Except, well –

"Kuuuuuurt!"

"Rachel must have got my text," Kurt puffed, carrying two boxes and setting them inside the door while Elliot struggled up the stairs behind him.

"Kuuuuuurt!"

"Are you sure these are clothes? Because I'm pretty sure you packed at least forty pounds' worth of bow ties," Elliot called, still halfway down the stairs. "How did you even fit these all in one box?"

Blaine opened his mouth to respond indignantly that they were _not _but he couldn't get more than "That's not –" before being tackled.

"Kuuuurt, you didn't tell me he was coming todaaay," Rachel sing-songed, rocking them back and forth a little with her arms around his waist. "I missed you so much, how are you?"

"Rachel, we're fiancés, remember? Don't do anything to him that you wouldn't do to Santana," Kurt warned, taking one of the boxes off Elliot's hands as he smiled gratefully at him.

Blaine grinned as he squeezed Rachel's hands, tilting his head a little to look at her. "Hi," he chirped, cheek pressed against hers as she squeezed his waist lightly. "I missed you, too."

"Fiancés," Kurt quipped, descending down the stairs again with Elliot in tow. "Don't forget that we're going out to dinner tonight."

"I thought you were letting me cook," Rachel protested indignantly, releasing Blaine so she could hurry after Kurt, adding in a third, _"Kuuuuurt," _when he started humming loudly over top of her, feigning ignorance.

"I think he's cute," an unfamiliar voice piped in, the distinct wet crunch of an apple being cleaved into a bite-sized piece drawing Blaine's attention towards the kitchen area, Dani – it had to be Dani – eyeing him up thoughtfully. "I'd totally tap that," she said after a moment, taking another bite of apple and ignoring the way Blaine's cheeks went scarlet as Kurt's voice called from far below, "_Fiancés!_"

"Kurt, you have to at least let me sing a duet with him," Rachel was bargaining as they re-emerged at the top of the stairs, Blaine struggling in the whirlwind of activity to find his place. Thankfully, as soon as Kurt reappeared he thrust a box into Blaine's hands and he took it, carting it off to their bedroom – _their _bedroom – before returning to grab a couple more on his own.

"We are not staking claims on my fiancé about who gets to sing duets with him," Kurt was saying with an exaggerated roll of his eyes as he handed Blaine the last box. "Here," he added, giving him an encouraging nudge towards the bedroom while adding gratefully in Elliot's direction, "Thank you so much for coming, you really didn't have to."

"Of course I did," Elliot said, smiling still in spite of the color in his cheeks as he set the last one aside. "It's only fair. You let me crash at your place. Residence fee." He shrugged, holding out a hand to Blaine when he returned and beaming as he said, "Hi, I'm Elliot Gilbert. It's so nice to finally meet you, Kurt's been telling me all about you."

"Only good things," Kurt assured, sneaking up behind Blaine to wrap his arms around his waist like Rachel had mere moments ago once Elliot let go of his hand.

"Of course," Elliot agreed, grinning, while Blaine blinked stupidly at him, smiling a little helplessly.

"Don't mind me," apple-cruncher – Dani – called. "Just minding my own business."

Kurt sighed and rolled his eyes, steering Blaine across the floor until he was standing in front of her instead and introducing formally, "Blaine, this is Dani. Dani, this is Blaine."

Dani lifted a hand in greeting, taking another bite from her apple as she did so. "He's hot," she repeated, looking over at Kurt expectantly, almost accusingly. "You didn't say he was hot."

"I have said _a dozen times _that he is _very _attractive," Kurt retorted, glancing over at Elliot as he flopped down onto the couch with the remote already in hand. "We're still watching Downton Abbey tonight," he warned. Elliot lifted a hand to acknowledge it, mirroring Dani's gesture as he kicked up a leg comfortably.

"You didn't say he was _hot,_" Dani insisted, a crime of apparently insurmountable offense as she set her apple aside and fixed Kurt with a disappointed stare.

Kurt rolled his eyes, keeping a hold on Blaine's arm so he could tug him off to their bedroom. "_We _have unpacking to do, _you _have a girlfriend," he reminded over his shoulder.

"Opportunist!" Dani called back, keeping the last word as Kurt shut the door behind them, breathing out slowly in relief.

Blaine let out a deep exhale of his own, his hands shaking a little as he reached for Kurt, already halfway in his embrace by the time he breathed, "Kurt, I love you so much," against his shoulder.

Kurt kissed the side of his head, rubbing his back slowly as he smiled and echoed, "I love you, too."

Blaine melted in his embrace as he listened to Rachel arguing loudly with Santana beyond the walls, relishing Kurt's closeness, his warmth, his smell, his touch, his _everything._ He could almost doze off against him, conscious of his heartbeat, his vitality, so near and so real and so _his. _It had been too long, he decided, head underwater for so long that he had almost forgotten what it felt like to finally breathe again.

Kurt didn't rush them, didn't pat his hip fondly and tell him that they needed to confront the world again like he usually did. There were always deadlines before, always people to please and places to be. Here, there was just . . . Kurt, and Rachel, and Santana, and Dani, and maybe even Elliot, too, but that was okay, because right then all that mattered was Kurt, and Kurt's arms around him.

"If we let her cook," Kurt mused aloud, soft as a cradle as he curled his arms around Blaine's shoulders, "then we don't have to leave the apartment tonight." He toyed with the curls at the back of Blaine's neck lightly, adding sultrily, "We could stay here."

Blaine shivered, both at the sensation and implication, struggling to form words. At last, he leaned up and kissed him, and that was answer enough. Kurt's arms pulled him forward, edging their bodies until Blaine could feel his chest expanding against his own, dizzied by it, overwhelmed that Kurt was _here._

He had almost forgotten that there was a world beyond completely until he heard another loud, "_Kuuuuurt_," followed by an even more plaintive, _"Blaaaaine._"

Kurt sighed as he pulled away, Blaine's fingers still curled in his shirt a little until they broke apart, a rueful smile on his lips. "If we leave her alone, we'll regret it," he warned.

"Yeah. Yes." Blaine surveyed the room, blinking dazedly as he absorbed reality once more, a world that existed outside of _Kurt Kurt Kurt. _ "Yeah, we should, um."

"Unpack?" Kurt prompted, tugging playfully at his cardigan, a flustered smile crossing Blaine's lips as he echoed dryly, "Yeah. Unpack."

* * *

**Author's Notes**: Thank you so much for such a positive response so far! I have a lot more installments to come and I hope you'll enjoy them as well!

Review?


	3. 2: Humble Beginnings

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Glee or any of its characters; Ryan Murphy and Co. hold that honor. I'm simply writing this for fun, not profit.

**No regrets, just cuddles. **

**~1,800 words**

"And _that's _why we went with Pamela Landsbury," Kurt finished succinctly, waving a whipped cream can eloquently before shaking it up and dousing his piece of apple pie. "Anybody else want some? _Not you, _Santana," he added firmly, waggling the canister invitingly in Elliot and Dani's sprawl on the floor. "Yes? No? Maybe?"

"I'll take some," Elliot agreed, reaching over Dani's legs – she was sprawled out next to him, bobbing her head along with her headphones silently – before yelping as she kicked him lightly in the chin.

"Uh uh, I call first dibs," she retorted, snatching the canister from Kurt's fingers and ignoring his put-upon sigh. Shaking the can, she tilted it up and sprayed a blast into her mouth, tossing the can onto Elliot's lap when she was done. "I have no idea why, but it's irresistible."

"Agreed so much," Elliot concurred, lathering his own slice of pie in whipped cream. "So, where's the beau?" he added, nudging Kurt's leg with his foot.

Kurt glanced over his shoulder expectantly, tucking his legs underneath himself on the couch. "Blaaaaine, you almost ready?" he called, eliciting a quick, "Just a second!" from the confines of their bedroom.

Blaine emerged a moment later in his pajamas, blushing slightly at being overdressed before he padded over to Kurt duly on the couch and flopping down beside him. "Your hair looks fine," Kurt assured him, reaching a hand up to run his fingers through his curls once, taking another bite of pie on the side. "You don't need to worry about it so much, either. We're all artists here."

"If you'd let me have a little creative license, then I could fix your hair," Santana pointed out, pulling a bag of popcorn out of the microwave and joining them.

"You put _whipped cream _on my _face,_" Kurt said, mustering all the raw indignity that he could manage with his boyfriend cuddled up comfortably against his side. "Do you even know how many hours it took to repair the damage? _Four._"

"Only because you _obsess_ over your borderline fluorescent skin," Santana retorted, pulling Mamma Mia off the shelves. "Quick, before Berry gets back and sings over all the good numbers," she added, tossing the DVD case in Elliot's direction and settling down into the space beside Dani when he vacated it. "If you'd just let me dye your eyebrows –"

"_No,_" Kurt snipped, snatching a handful of popcorn from the bowl.

Blaine helped himself to a dollop of whipped cream from Kurt's pie, nestling his cheek against his shoulder innocently as he popped his thumb into his mouth. "I thought you didn't like whipped cream," Kurt teased, as he reached down and flecked a white dot over his nose.

Blaine pointed, leaning a little closer so he could nudge his nose against Kurt's cheek. "Unfair."

"Oh, no, not you, too," Kurt groaned, reaching up to wipe the smear off with his thumb. "We are _not _doing whipped cream facials anymore."

Dani made such an emphatic _mm-hmm _to that that Kurt blushed, hunching a little more in his blanket mound and taking another bite of pie. Blaine helped himself to another dollop as the movie started, resting his cheek against Kurt's arm instead.

Movie nights were a standard affair at the loft, and with the five of them piled in the living room, it felt . . . almost like after-school Glee club practices, actually. He could almost picture someone shuffling papers in the background, one ear always attuned for the dramatic hand-clap that would signal the beginning of practice. He half-expected Mr. Schuester to burst into the room with his typical fanfare and announced, _"Let's get started, guys!"_

Idly, he wondered what it must be like, back in Lima. Quieter, perhaps, without the background noise of traffic to complicate things. Cooler, maybe; temperatures had been dropping steadily, even though it was still a ferociously humid summer in New York. And of course, quainter, a small town of like-minded people and little ambition among them. It wasn't bad – the world needed people of every occupation, aspiration, and dream – but it wasn't what he needed, either.

Lima was four walls and a certificate announcing permanent resignation to individuality and acceptance of norms. New York was breakaway; New York was exotic. New York was everything he'd ever needed, because New York was Kurt, and Kurt was all that mattered.

Even though he had been resigned to stay awake for their entire movie marathon, he lost track of time just over the half hour mark, mustering himself back to drowsy consciousness when he felt Kurt shift underneath him. Once they were re-settled in a more comfortable horizontal sprawl, one of Kurt's arms hooked protectively over Blaine's back, his halfhearted attempt to stay awake was even less inspiring, sleep claiming him moments later.

. o .

"Is he asleep?" Santana asked, her voice unsurprisingly acerbic even as she kept her eyes glued to the screen, one hand running absentmindedly through Dani's hair.

"Shut up, Santana," Kurt said, also without removing his eyes from the screen, just running a hand slowly up and down Blaine's back. He was too happy to argue and, besides, Rachel had replaced Elliot and was shushing them impatiently, braced on the edge of her seat with wide eyes. Thankfully, the movie had reached a slow spell, removing the temptation to burst into song. Still, he didn't miss the way she strategically rose from her seat and passed, humming, into the kitchen, making a cup of tea for herself.

Even then he couldn't be irked, just resting his cheek against Blaine's hair and marveling, unable to believe the realness of the moment. It didn't feel real; he half-expected Blaine to vanish, replaced by the cold, if unjudging, cotton that was Bruce. Too many nights had been spent cradling the boyfriend-pillow longing for the real thing; now that he had him, Kurt almost couldn't break from his summer stupor, a flurry of work and school and _everything _struggling to be forgotten. He had worked so hard for this moment, argued with Santana and Rachel until he was ready to kick both of them out – or, even more audacious, _move _– when finally, unexpectedly, they caved.

On one condition.

Kurt had no idea what dirt Santana had on Rachel, but her condition was simply that if Blaine could live with them, then so could Dani. Both Rachel and he had still staged heated disputes about it – how would they even _fit _five people full time in the loft? – but the logistics had worked out surprisingly well. And, even if she _was _a little snarkier outside the restaurant than Kurt had ever anticipated, Dani was nice, a pleasant change from just the three of them. She brought home food and paid rent and offered valuable life lessons. All in all, Kurt adjusted and so did Rachel; from then it had only been a matter of time before their fifth and final resident would arrive.

There were nights when Kurt could barely sleep from anticipation, and now that he had Blaine with him, he found himself in a similar state of sleeplessness. He didn't dare close his eyes, afraid that if he did Blaine would be gone. He knew it was silly – as silly as the almost-tears had been, just standing there holding Blaine in his room, _their _room for the first time – but he couldn't help himself.

This was real. Everything about it was real, and he almost forgot not to smile stupidly when Blaine shuffled so he could bury his face in Kurt's neck, aware of Rachel's gaze on them.

It was hard for her, he knew, but, in a way, Elliot had been better for her than he'd imagined. Elliot was single and nice and normal. He didn't want to date her, and Kurt knew that she didn't have any intentions of pursuing him, either. They didn't gravitate towards each other like Santana and Dani or, God, Blaine and he, but they were like an almost-couple, smiling easy and taking risks and meshing over simple things. It made Kurt feel better, having him around, because he was single and so was she, and in a world of couples, nothing could be more relieving than a similarly unengaged person.

Sitting up very slowly when the movie began to wind down, he gave Blaine a little squeeze to rouse him, hating himself for doing so but not wanting to attract Santana's attention again as he gave him a nudge towards their bedroom. Blaine blinked owlishly at him for a moment, squinty-eyed and sleepy, before shuffling to his feet and obediently padding off. Rachel wordlessly slipped into the still-warm space left behind on the couch, Santana and Dani still comfortably intertwined on the floor.

As soon as they were alone, Blaine bee-lined for the bed, shuffling more on instinct than conscious prerogative under the covers and pushing them back enough to indicate that Kurt was invited. Unable to help himself, Kurt leaned over to kiss him once, soft, undemanding, before pulling away to slide under the covers beside him. Without hesitating he shuffled up behind him, curling his legs underneath Blaine's knees and wrapping his arms around his stomach, stroking a warm strip of skin lightly.

"Missed you s'much," Blaine slurred, reaching down to cup Kurt's hands, running his own thumb over his knuckles.

"I missed you," Kurt agreed, kissing the back of his neck. "Go to sleep, honey."

Blaine didn't even grunt, just slipping back seamlessly into unconsciousness, grip loosening around Kurt's fingers. Kurt continued to rub his belly slowly, nestling his nose against his shoulder, grateful that the room was dark and the city beyond muffled by the heavy wood walls.

He'd forgotten what it was like to sleep without the noise, but his body hadn't forgotten what it was like to sleep without Blaine, curving naturally into that space reserved exclusively for him. _Mine, _he thought, delight and warmth mingling because the ring on his finger was just visible in the dark and, soon, Blaine would have one, too, a matching ring to clink gently against, to marvel over, to gaze at. They'd agreed not to get one until Blaine could be in New York with him, and now it was no longer a prospect to be wistfully imagined but seriously considered. He didn't know when or where they would go, but they would – soon – and then there would be no more questions, no more silent doubts, no more curiosities and confusions and pangs.

It was their life, now, and they had all the time in the world.

Glancing at his naked fingers one last time and brushing a thumb thoughtfully over that little space, Kurt closed his eyes, cuddled him closer, and succumbed to sleep at last.

* * *

**Author's Notes: **Thank you so much for your support! I will be responding to reviews every three chapters. I hope that you enjoyed this installment and, if you would be so kind, please review to let me know!


	4. 3: Good Morning

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Glee or any of its characters; Ryan Murphy and Co. hold that honor. I'm simply writing this for fun, not profit.

**Brief but sweet, hopefully. More cuddles. And so it begins.**

**~1,500 words**

Blaine liked sleeping in on Saturday mornings. He savored the slow build to wakefulness, refusing to move too quickly and break the peacefulness. He liked lingering, lazing, lounging. He especially liked having Kurt near him, arms wrapped firmly around his waist and breathing warm and soft by his ear.

Rachel _liked _Saturday mornings, but sleeping in was another matter entirely. Which was why, at precisely 7:15 AM, Blaine awoke to the sound of Rachel singing in the shower. Loudly.

"She does this every morning," Kurt drawled sleepily, an exasperated grunt escaping him as he buried his face in between Blaine's shoulder blades and tightened his grip around his middle. "Just ignore her."

In theory, it was simple, especially when Kurt's suggestion was so sweet; but the first tug had jarred him. He could hear the traffic beyond and the general mill of city life, a buzzing that proved almost as unavoidable as the first piercing chorus of _Mamma Mia._

Kurt was snoring softly again in seconds, but Blaine couldn't sleep, shuffling restlessly in his arms before sighing and turning around completely so they were facing each other. Tucking his cheek against the warm nook between Kurt's shoulder and neck as Kurt buried his face in his hair, he relaxed, letting himself drift into a peaceful, half-morning stupor.

Barely a beat passed, it seemed, before someone flopped down on top of them, Kurt letting out a loud groan of defiance as Blaine huddled closer to him, trusting him to handle it. "Dani," Kurt seethed, ignoring her lightly kicking feet as he added, "go _away._"

"No," Dani said stubbornly, reaching up to ruffle their hair playfully. "You promised we could go out sometime. I want my free food, Hummel."

"I _said _I would consider it _if _you kept our little mishap a secret," Kurt grumbled.

Blaine inched his chin up so he could murmur against his skin, "What mishap?"

"You didn't tell him?" Dani added, wickedly perceptive, as Kurt insisted sternly, "_No, _and we're not _going _to."

"You used my boobs as a pillow," Dani said, snuggling closer to them as Kurt held on stubbornly to Blaine, slowly being smothered by their combined weight but, since it was mostly Kurt, perfectly content to let it happen.

"_Once,_" Kurt sniffed indignantly. "I thought you had a pillow on you."

"Nah." Dani sat up a little to adjust her bra, deliberately snuggling up against him. "You have the comfiest bed, you know that?"

Kurt groaned again, burying his face in the pillow this time. "You are _not _sleeping here," he pointed out, giving her a nudge. "Go on. Go harass Santana, she loves it."

Leaning up to give him a quick peck on the cheek, Dani shimmied off them, making a point to shake the whole bed before hopping off and adding in a sing-songy trill, "Don't forget our deal!"

"Is it really that bad?" Blaine murmured weakly, cheek still smushed against the pillow from where Kurt had moved.

Kurt sighed, reaching up idly to pull him closer. "No, but she knows where I keep my moisturizers and Santana's good at switching the labels."

"Mm." Blaine leaned up to kiss the underside of his jaw, murmuring, "I don't mind. It might be fun."

"Might." Kurt rubbed his back slowly, just trailing his fingers up and down the sleep-warmed skin, embracing their respite. "No regrets yet?" he asked, only slightly teasing, as Blaine shook his head.

He had thought there might be – panic at the thought of being so far away, so absorbed into a whole different environment that home was an almost unreachable place – but he didn't. He felt home. Welcome. Safe. Even Dani's presence wasn't entirely unwelcome, and Rachel's singing was expected. He counted himself lucky that Santana was apparently a heavy sleeper, avoiding that particular font of drama.

"None whatsoever," he assured, tilting his head so he could kiss him properly, ignoring the way Kurt scrunched his nose. "My breath is not that bad," he grumbled.

"_Mine _is," Kurt corrected, patting his hip with a little sigh. "Come on. If we don't hit the showers before Santana, we won't shower."

Blaine reluctantly obliged, scooting away from him a little and just watching Kurt stretch, arms over his head and back arching in pleasure. "Ooh," he said, as he turned a shoulder just so and settled in a more comfortable sprawl. "Maybe we should just take our chances?" he teased, wincing when Dani called out a warning, "My food's getting cold, Kurt!"

"You haven't even gotten it yet!" he barked back, sitting up properly and reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose. "Did you want first shower?" he added, dropping his head. Blaine shook his head slowly, waving a hand.

"It's yours."

"Thanks." Kurt smiled at him, just as reluctant to leave as he was before grudgingly shuffling off the bed and hurrying off to the shower.

Rachel was still humming but, Blaine could tell by their brief conversation, thankfully dressed, padding off into the kitchen to talk with Dani about her Broadway role. Scooting over so he could face-plant in Kurt's pillow, Blaine let out a gusty sigh of contentment as he did so, nuzzling the warm fabric. It still smelled like Kurt and, cheesy as it sounded, he'd missed it. He'd missed everything about him, and even the brief separation made him want to follow Kurt into the shower, just to hear his startled half-squeak before he kissed him, bare skin and warm, wet water.

Knowing that Kurt probably wouldn't appreciate it with all three of his very _female _roommates present (or maybe he would, but that was a risk that Blaine reluctantly decided he wasn't ready to take), Blaine rolled onto his side and got up out of bed, reaching up to rub the back of his neck slowly.

Padding off into the kitchen after a vague attempt at flattening his hair, he startled when he felt Rachel latch onto his middle, setting up the coffeemaker instinctively. "Good morning, sunshine," she greeted, standing up on tiptoe so she could hook her chin over his shoulder. "What sort of extravagant activities do you and Kurt have planned for today?"

"Sight-seeing, I think," Blaine said, adjusting the coffeemaker until it was just the right setting and turning so he could give her a proper hug and releasing her. "How have you been? I heard Broadway's been amazing."

"It's fabulous," Rachel agreed, launching into a detailed explanation of exactly _why _it was fabulous in no less than six hundred words. Nodding along and making the appropriate uh-huh noises as he attended the coffee, Blaine relaxed when a different, more familiar pair of arms came around his waist, accompanied by a slow murmur.

"Please tell me you saved some for me."

Blaine handed him a cup of coffee in reply, smiling as Kurt took it and brought it to his mouth for a long, heady sip, eyes closing in relief. "You're a saint."

"I try," Blaine said, admiring the tight white polo he had on, matching black pants cutting a striking figure against his already irresistible skin. Unable to help himself, he leaned up to kiss Kurt's coffee-warm lips, smiling teasingly when Kurt scrunched up his nose again as he retreated.

"Definitely yours," he decided, laughing as Blaine gave him a halfhearted shove.

"Ouch," he muttered, feigning affront as he padded off towards the bathroom.

"I love you," Kurt called after him, leaning back against the counter and smiling delightedly, coffee in hands.

"I love you, too," Blaine echoed, glancing over his shoulder at him and smiling in return. "Don't drink all of it."

"No guarantees," was all Kurt said in reply, and Blaine upheld him to that, at least; honesty if not complete promise.

Yet there was a fresh pot of coffee when he emerged, refreshed and ready to go, and as he accepted the kiss Kurt gave him, wondering if there was ever such a thing as too much love in a single space (because already he couldn't believe that this was life, this was _living, _and Ohio's separation was like a fever dream, distant and unremembered), he couldn't help but smile again.


	5. 4: Loosened Inhibitions

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Glee or any of its characters; Ryan Murphy and Co. hold that honor. I'm simply writing this for fun, not profit.

**Loosened inhibitions. Title says it all. Enjoy!**

**~2,800 words**

"I need him intact," Kurt had warned as he adjusted the bow tie around Blaine's neck reflexively, seemingly unable to help himself even as Blaine reached up to give his hand a light, reassuring squeeze, smiling at him as Kurt smiled tersely back. "And not in the headlines," he'd added sternly, fixing Dani and Santana with an unforgiving glare. "Okay?"

"Chill," Dani had said, hooking an arm around Blaine's shoulder. "We're gonna have an awesome time. You won't regret this."

"I'm already regretting it, please don't make me regret it more," was all Kurt said, pinching the bridge of his nose. Blaine sidled over to him and gave him a quick hug to placate him, kissing his cheek once.

"It's gonna be fine," he'd promised. "We'll have fun, and it's only a few hours. I'll see you after your shift."

Kurt had made an uncertain noise which, in retrospect, Blaine had realized was probably well-deserved. Still, he'd smiled reassuringly and accepted Kurt's halfhearted hug in return, a final promise not to get into too much trouble answered with utmost seriousness.

That was two hours ago. And while the intervening time was still a little blurry, all Blaine cared about was that Dani's suggestion that he'd needed to unwind was basically the best suggestion ever, and drinking alcohol was the only logical next course of action. Of course, a back rub to sweeten the deal hadn't hurt – if anything, it had lowered his inhibitions further, making him more inclined to accept the bottle every time she let him have it – and the result was magnificent. He felt lighter and less stressed than he had in days, curled up on the couch with her and re-watching some old soap opera while they both laughed at progressively stupider jokes.

Blaine might have been ashamed but they were in the loft, _their _loft, and a little justifiable debauchery was totally acceptable. He'd finally broken loose of Ohio's stranglehold and emerged into the full splendor of New York. He was _living _in Bushwick, and if that wasn't surreal enough, he had the hottest, most amazing boyfriend ever as his future husband. He was _engaged. _ He was happy. (And he was only a year shy of being legal, so, really, he hardly felt his moral boundaries were being stretched at all anymore.)

His head buzzing pleasantly, he asked past a hiccup, "So what's even in that, anyway?"

Dani plucked the near empty bottle off the coffee table and examined it seriously for a moment before tossing back another swig. "I don't know. Want some?"

Blaine made an affirmative noise as he reached for the bottle, almost tipping over her lap as he finished it off, pulling off with a triumphant hiccup that made her laugh, hard, so much that he started laughing, too, and then Santana was there and making disapproving noises at both of them.

"I swear to God, if you drank all of it without me," she said, acutely enraged, but then Dani slid expertly out of their tangled fold on the couch and trailed after her, twining her arms around her waist and saying, "Hey, babe," while Santana pretended to be thoroughly interested in her phone. "S'more in the cabinet if you want some."

There was a moment – or it might have been several, Blaine wasn't entirely sure anymore, except the couch was really so _soft _and smelled like everyone but Kurt, and that made him a little sad as he rubbed his cheek against one of the pillows, wondering whose not-Kurt scent he was absorbing – but there was a moment when Santana seemed inclined to just brush them off before she paused, sliding her phone away and saying, "You know what would really piss Hummel off?"

Blaine thought a lot of things would really piss Mr. Hummel off, ranging from harming to deflowering his son (and he started laughing so hard to himself he had to muffle the sound in one of the pillows, and that one smelled like flowers, too, which just made him laugh harder because _God_), but he didn't understand why Santana wanted to have sex with Kurt. Except everyone probably wanted to have sex with Kurt. But only he was allowed to have sex with Kurt because Kurt was his fiancé, _his _fiancé, and he'd said yes to Blaine.

So when he felt the light tug of fingers in his hair, he went with it, rolling onto his back like a lazy, sun-sprawled puppy, pleasantly light. The first words out of his mouth were, "Kurt and I have sex." Then, waving a finger supremely, he added, "Kurt and _I _have sex," and nodded.

Dani burst out laughing, . Santana caught his hand, scrunching her nose at him as she pulled him to a seated position, making him rest both his hands on his knees while Dani happily slid into place beside her, arms latched around her waist comfortably.

"Dude, no," Dani added lazily, when Santana selected a particularly exotic shade of purple nail polish, reaching for bright blue instead. Santana rolled her eyes – doubtless a result of jealousy, Blaine concluded, almost sadly, that she couldn't have sex with Kurt – before uncapping it, picking up his left hand, and applying a single smooth coat to his pinky.

He giggled, tugging his hand back a little. "Stop," he said, when she smoothed a second coat over it, capping the nail polish and going for the purple again, Dani making an mm-hmm sound of approval as she just leaned her cheek against Santana's shoulder and waited.

Blaine marveled at the colors as Santana quickly finished and moved onto his right hand, applying a different set of colors with equal care. Delighted, he tried to pull his hands away from her so he could admire them properly, whining when she kept his hands firmly in her grasp.

"Don't smear the paint," she warned, and he noticed that her own nails were a seductive shade of red. Red like … fine wine and dusky summer nights and Kurt's blushes. Although Kurt's blushes were rarer and sweeter and Santana's fingernails looked almost ready to maim.

She released his own hands just as Elliot knocked on the door, sliding it open a moment later with several bags worth of the best smelling food ever.

"Hello, ladies," he greeted, blinking stupidly when he spotted Blaine. "And, uh. Blaine. Hi. I thought you'd be with Kurt?"

"Kurt had work," Blaine reported sadly, climbing unsteadily to his feet so he could trail after Elliot. "What's that?"

"It's Thai."

"Kurt likes Thai," Blaine mused.

"I know," Elliot began, fishing the containers out of the bags as he set them down on the counter.

Blaine watched him for a moment, admiring the lean, easy way he moved before adding importantly, "Kurt and I have sex."

Elliot choked, Dani snickering into Santana's shoulder as Santana rolled her eyes.

"It's magical," Blaine added, a little forlorn, because they weren't moved and sex with Kurt _was _moving.

"I think you need to lay off the alcohol," Elliot said, putting the rest of the Thai food out and looking at Blaine with sympathetic eyes. "When's Kurt get back?"

Blaine blinked, startled to realize that he didn't know, worry creasing his brow. "I don't know. He should be back. He said he'd be back."

"He's working a late shift," Santana added, while Dani conjoined with a helpful, "We should totally drink more. You guys – you really need to get on this _level._"

Blaine perked up at the mention of more alcohol, perusing the containers Elliot had brought back hopefully, pouting when all he found was – really delicious smelling food, actually, and when he popped an egg roll in his mouth, he forgot his quest for alcohol entirely. Downing six in less than twenty minutes, he scarfed down easily a third of the food Elliot had brought home, groaning incoherently into the couch to express his misery as he added in a whine, "Where's Kurt?"

"You should drink more," Dani suggested in a slur, tossing a pillow at his head. "C'mon, come drink with me."

"I want Kurt," Blaine insisted sullenly, which, thankfully – wish granted.

He'd barely gotten the words out of his mouth when he heard Kurt's startled, "Santana," and then, somehow even more emphatically, _"Dani._"

"What? It's delicious," Dani insisted, clearly losing the argument as Kurt just made a hissing noise – he sounded like a cat when he did it, too, and Blaine sort of snickered, sort of hiccupped into the couch cushion as he rolled over to face him, grinning widely when he came into view.

"Hi," he said, body jerking with another silent hiccup as he smiled, holding out his arms. "Cuddle time."

Kurt sighed, sitting at the opposite end of the couch and patting Blaine's socked foot. His other sock had gone missing somewhere; not that he cared, especially not when Kurt was there. He groaned when Kurt stroked a thumb over the arch of his foot, making grabby hands for him even when he was so far away. "Why are you so far away?" he added mournfully, prodding Kurt's hip with his bare foot and accidentally jabbing him in the stomach. "'m sorry, I'm sorry," he hastened to say, flailing to sit up and almost collapsing against Kurt, humming as he wrapped his arms snugly around his waist. "Cuddles."

"Oh, honey." Kurt reached up to brush his curls out of his face, smiling when Blaine kissed his palm. Wanting to make him smile – _happy _to make him smile, because Kurt was his and everything was good, everything was totally good and he'd thought that Kurt having to take an afternoon shift would be the worst, _the worst _because they were supposed to have fun and everything was going to be amazing, but this was better, even, because he had warm soft skin under his lips, sucking sloppily at the bare-skin of his shoulder.

"Oh, please," Santana said, in that high, dry, exasperated manner she always used, even though Dani's legs were draped over her lap from where they sat precariously at the table, Elliot on the opposite side. "Whatever gay mating ritual you two have in mind can totally stay behind closed doors."

Kurt wrinkled his nose at the implication that it would be otherwise, Blaine leaning up to kiss it because it was cute when he did that, missing and kissing the corner of his mouth. That was okay, too, he decided, peppering his face with short, sloppy kisses, murmuring, "So nice, Kurt. You taste so good."

"Get some," Dani crowed, ignoring Santana's mimed gagging while Kurt sighed, pushing Blaine's shoulder with a hand to get him to stop.

Blaine pouted, tucking his cheek against his shoulder and pressing a single unhappy kiss against it. "No sex?"

Kurt's ears turned _red _as he reached up to pinch the bridge of his nose with two fingers, shaking his head. "No, sweetheart. No." Then, blinking dazedly at Blaine's hands, he yelped and demanded loudly, "_Santana._"

"What? It's an improvement," Santana quipped, and none of that really mattered to Blaine because Kurt's hands were warm and soft and so nice in his, and really he had the nicest hands ever, and Blaine was so, so lucky to have him, to finally be with him, and New York was amazing, Kurt.

"I know," Kurt said, hush-hush-hush, getting to his feet and pulling him after himself. "C'mon, Borat. I can't leave you alone for ten minutes, can I?"

"Wasn't ten minutes," Blaine hiccupped, but it might have been, and it might not have been, but it didn't matter, either, now that Kurt was there. He let Kurt lead them, stumbling over his own feet a little and whining longingly when he saw a half-finished bottle on the table between Santana, Dani, and Elliot.

"_No,"_ Kurt said emphatically, and that was enough, obediently following in his footsteps as the bedroom door slid shut behind them. And doors were wonderful, really, Blaine reflected, because now it really was just Kurt and him, him and Kurt, and when he fell into that easy space between Kurt's neck and shoulder, he didn't even protest.

As in sync as Blaine always felt they were, however, Kurt clearly had different plans in mind as he nudged Blaine back towards the bed. As soon as his knees hit, he sat, glancing up at Kurt hopefully, a bit starstruck by his borderline _ethereal _beauty.

Kurt was like an angel. A perfect, perfect angel, finally here to make everything good again. There had been so many dark nights, so many lonely, cold nights in between, when he'd let go of Kurt the first time, when he'd abandoned Kurt, when he'd told Kurt about his betrayal and lost him, almost for good. Countless nights, dark nights, lonely nights, and then Kurt began to let him in again, and he would never know the how or why, never understand exactly what about himself made Kurt say _yes, _but he would always remember it, always, and there was something inexplicably sweet about it.

Kurt tugged his too hot shirt over his head gently, kissing him to placate him before reaching for one of his own soft gray shirts and pulling it over Blaine's head. Blaine loved the soft gray shirts; they were always too big and the sleeves too long but they hugged his shoulders and back and it was almost like wearing Kurt's hugs, arms warm and secure and locked around him a moment later, pressing a kiss to his hair before he retreated once more.

The pants were a greater challenge – Blaine had fuzzy recollections of lunch and more city affairs, so much to see, so much to do, so much overwhelming in one place – but everything was soft around the edges and nothing felt urgent. Kurt was patient and undemanding, working with him, and Blaine didn't feel stupid even when his left foot got stuck and he just sort of giggled helplessly against Kurt's shoulder, holding on for dear life.

Then Kurt was snugging a pair of black yoga pants over his hips and it was better, so much better, better even than the slow buzz that made the world taste like searing sweetness, everything beautiful thing thrown into sharp contrast. He could smell Kurt's hair and skin so well, his fingers clinging to the back of _his _shirt in order to memorize the textures, the tastes, the warmth rhythm of a heartbeat under his ear.

It took a while for him to let go. Kurt didn't rush him, though, and that was what mattered, all that mattered, was Kurt.

And so once they were settled in, Blaine's fingers twined in the still-warm fabric of Kurt's shirt, his cheek pressed to his heart, he murmured, "I love you," and it became a mantra, as soft and perfect as Kurt's hand in his hair.

"I know you do," Kurt assured, on the third or fifth repetition, he couldn't count, as he pressed another kiss to his hair. "I know you do. I love you, too." He lifted Blaine's hand idly where it was still tangled in his shirt, adding musingly, "It wouldn't be as bad without the glitter," before letting his hand rest against his belly again. "You really can't listen to everything they say," he said warningly, but it didn't seem to matter as much because everything Kurt said mattered, and Kurt was always so right.

"I love you," he insisted, kissing his cheek, and Kurt smiled, that lazy angelic smile of his, and said simply, "I love you, too. Go to sleep."

Blaine was out before he'd consciously decided to let go, his last thought of Kurt, only Kurt, and the ethereal beauty he contained.


	6. 5: Ends Tied

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Glee or any of its characters; Ryan Murphy and Co. hold that honor. I'm simply writing this for fun, not profit.

**Transitional piece, more fun to come soon! Mostly Klaine, but Adam is present at one point.**

**~2,000 words**

Even hungover, Blaine was still cute.

If anything, he was even cuter. So much so that Kurt had had to almost literally pry him off himself in order to get him ready for their outing. "Come on," he'd said, light, chiding, as Blaine just held on a little tighter, arms wrapped around his waist from behind. "You promised you'd go out to breakfast with me," he added, turning in his arms so he could hug him properly, rubbing the small of his back soothingly.

Blaine had made a noncommittal noise that might have been a whine, his fingers curled against Kurt's shirt until at last Kurt coaxed him into releasing him. It had taken their combined efforts to get him decent, Rachel cooing over them the whole time before she zipped out to take care of a morning shift. "You two are so sweet," she'd insisted, as Kurt made a shooing gesture after her, herding Blaine back into their room - hair utterly akimbo - to help him gel it down.

He'd only been partially successful, but Blaine's wear was semi-casual and Kurt was dressed to match in a bright red polo and dark-wash jeans, Blaine in a blue shirt with a dark belt and equally dark pants. He had a beanie tucked over his ears to block out the worst of pedestrian chatter as they walked briskly down the sidewalk, nodding along to Kurt's ongoing commentary about various sights they needed to see and things they needed to do without offering any comments of his own.

New York was a treasure trove of untried experiences, and with both of them on break, it would be sinful to ignore its temptations. Kurt had only narrowly resisted the urge to schedule their entire first week in advance. In retrospect, he was grateful that he hadn't: Gunther had called him in for a late shift the previous night, and flexibility was key to not stressing out. He had Blaine, he had New York, and, with three weeks left of summer, he had all the time in the world.

Squeezing Blaine's hand in his own, resisting the urge to tease him for his hunched-penguin look, he asked, "So, what's your first impression?"

Blaine spent exactly three seconds in contemplative silence at his side, tilting his head carefully to examine their surroundings. "Loud," he said decisively. His grumbling only lasted a moment, though, as he added more sincerely, "It's incredible."

"You'll get used to the noise," Kurt assured, squeezing his hand again and not pointing out that it was hardly loud in their area. "Anything you wanted to try first?"

"Rachel's already insisted on taking me to the Gershwin," Blaine mused, coming to a halt beside Kurt as the lights changed. "She said it's a must-see."

"Broadway babies," Kurt agreed, swinging their arms lightly and savoring his presence. Tugging him along when the lights shifted again, he added, "We're almost there."

"Perfect." Blaine hurried to keep up with him, pressed close to his side. "It's not what I was expecting," he added, as they neared the bakery.

"No?" Kurt asked, holding the door open for him as Blaine shook his head, smiling at him as he stepped inside.

"It's bigger."

Kurt hummed as he followed him inside, steering him towards the line at the counter and rattling off some of his favorites on the menu. Blaine demurred with a simple, "Whatever you recommend," and Kurt ended up ordering for both of them, a cinnamon scone, a caramel latte, and a café mocha.

Settling into one of the two-person booths near the wall, he offered Kurt a warm smile, cradling his coffee in his hands and taking a grateful sip. "You didn't have to treat us," he murmured, reaching over to intertwine their fingers on the table.

"You treat us all the time," Kurt teased, squeezing his hand again. "I'm barely keeping up with your charming quota."

"My charming quota?" Blaine repeated, tugging the beanie off his head and reaching up to flatten his hair with a hand.

Kurt nodded, reaching over to smooth out some of the curls he had missed. "You know. That 'I'm going to help an elderly man cross the street' or 'I'm going to rescue a little girl's kitten' thing you do. Paying for coffee on our dates is just part of it." He took a pointed sip of his coffee as Blaine pouted at him, rolling his eyes and giving his hand another squeeze. "It's cute. I promise. And I will definitely let you pay for coffee on our dates," he added, "_but_ I want to pay for it sometimes, too." Breaking off a piece of his scone, he popped it in his mouth, letting out an indecent groan at the flavor. "God, you _have_ to try this, they're the best."

"Kurt?"

It was the last voice he'd expected to hear, but Kurt still managed to keep from choking on his scone in surprise as he swallowed and turned in his seat. "Adam?" he echoed, bewildered, as he set the rest of the scone aside. He could feel Blaine's gaze on both of them, confusion and curiosity mingling on his features, neither of which felt threatening to Kurt. _Good. _The last thing he wanted was for his fiancé, newly christened New Yorker, to doubt their relationship because he thought Kurt was seeing another guy. Which he wasn't. "What are you doing here?" It came out a little sharper than he'd intended, but Adam was alone and Adam just didn't find him alone anymore, not since he'd gotten engaged. He'd sent him a quick text to inform him that their meeting that night was 'cancelled' almost as soon as Kurt told him, and two days later one of his bandmates had approached Kurt to inform him that he had been kicked out of the Apples.

He'd tried to cover it up, of course, claiming that the gigs that they were intending to book only permitted small groups, but Kurt had spared him the embarrassment by assuring that it was fine. He understood.

And without Adam physically present to even offer an apology – message received. Loud and clear.

Seeing him again, dressed in his usual medley of coffee colors, Kurt couldn't help but sit up a little straighter, squeeze Blaine's hand a little more firmly across the table. Heedless of the unspoken signals to retreat, Adam advanced, little shuffling steps that skirted the intervening empty table and brought him just short of hand-shaking distance. "I could ask you the same thing," he replied carefully, one hand creeping back to rub the back of his neck. "I haven't seen you in a while."

"I thought that was intentional," Kurt replied coolly.

Adam offered a fractious smile. "I suppose it was. At the time." Looking over at Blaine deliberately for the first time, he extended a hand. "You must be the fiancé. I'm Adam. Founder and fearless leader of the Adam's Apples."

Blaine hesitated, clearly torn, before pulling his hand from Kurt's grasp and giving Adam's a single solid shake. "Blaine," he replied simply, taking Kurt's hand again in his own and squeezing it lightly. Kurt had a moment's hilarity imagining how Adam interpreted the nail polish spattered across his fingers before his attention was drawn once more to the present.

Deigning not to comment on the unconventional choice, Adam turned slightly and addressed Kurt, his expression softening. "I know I've made some mistakes in the past," he began, looking at Kurt and Blaine's intertwined hands as though he couldn't help himself, a visibly painful quirk to his smile now. "Perhaps my biggest one was letting myself fall into the rebound category." He offered Kurt another bright, fake smile, a slightly more fragile edge to it.

Kurt didn't respond, letting him talk, rubbing his thumb absentmindedly over Blaine's knuckles to let him know that he was still there. Still his.

"And as much as I would like to rekindle our friendship," Adam continued, chest inflating a little as he gained momentum before deflating with his next words, "I know that's impossible." Letting them absorb that statement, he finished simply, "I can only offer my sincerest apologies for being petty and hope that maybe you will consider rejoining the Apples? We could use someone like you."

"Adam," Kurt began, and something in his tone must have rubbed a nerve because Blaine's fingers tightened around his, protective, a little cautious around the edges. Adam's gaze fell on their fingers a second time and Kurt was almost tempted to pull away, conscious of the ring gleaming on his own hand. Blaine's ring. _His _ring. "I'm flattered that you want me back," he started again, his tone less warm but more sincere as he ran his thumb over Blaine's knuckles again, letting the ring show, letting Adam know where he stood, who he stood by, "but I can't accept. I started my own band, actually."

"Oh." It was a soft exclamation, a nervous twitter of a sound accompanied by a quick, halfhearted, "That's great."

"Thank you for being honest," Kurt said, and he could see that it was over even as a knot loosened in his chest, some unattended ache finally abating as he finished, "but I have other priorities now. The Apples were . . . fun, but . . . they just weren't for me."

Adam nodded, the stilted nature of his smile clear. "I was foolish to let you go," he said, almost sadly, hurt and regret coloring his voice.

"You never had me," Kurt reminded, a ruthless declaration delivered so gently, and it was then that Adam retreated, offering a simple, "I'll see you around, Kurt. Nice to meet you, Blaine," before departing.

Kurt took a long sip from his coffee as Adam disappeared from his line of sight, gaze alighting back on Blaine, still a little squinty-eyed around the edges with hangover-pain. There was something new in his gaze, though, an unreadable emotion that translated into three gentle squeezes, once, twice, thrice, before he released Kurt's hand to take a bite from his scone.

"I think we should get you a ring," Kurt said, adopting a softer, more intimate tone that stilled Blaine's hand as effectively as a knife, his second bite of scone halfway to his lips. He set the morsel down carefully and met Kurt's gaze, eyes shining with delight and intrigue.

Then, stepping back almost visibly from the immediate temptation to agree and buy the first ring they could find, Blaine squeezed his hand again and agreed, "I think we should, too."

"This week," Kurt added boldly.

"Kurt," Blaine warned, because they'd agreed not to rush into things, they'd agreed not to rush anything anymore, tiptoeing around each other as much as possible (to the point where Blaine's declaration that he wanted to be a doctor almost went unheard until it was too late to change his mind) and avoiding conflict. But that wasn't who they were – and it wasn't who _Kurt _was – and so he held his ground.

"I'm serious," he insisted. When Blaine opened his mouth to protest, he added softly, "I want everyone to know that you're mine as much as I'm yours, Blaine. And I want them to know _now, _not in six months or a year."

He could almost see the protest in Blaine's eyes – _it won't be six months or a year, we would never wait that long _– before he nodded slowly. Clearing his throat, he added, "We'll look at rings this week," and Kurt nodded in acquiescence.

"Good," was all he said, giving his hand a firm squeeze. Letting Blaine wrap his head around the idea for a moment – he could almost _see _the gears turning in his head, a pensive frown on his brow as he looked at his own fingers thoughtfully – Kurt waited until he looked a little more adjusted before leaning back in his seat and clasping his hands together. "On a brighter note," he said brightly, beaming, "I got our band another gig."

"I'm not actually _in _the band yet," Blaine reminded lightly, almost teasingly, as he fiddled with the top of his coffee cup. "I haven't even auditioned."

Kurt rolled his eyes eloquently, not deigning to respond as he added, "_And _I want you to come. Spectator or not, I don't want you to miss it."

He looked at Blaine seriously, almost sternly, and only broke character with a smile when Blaine let out a gusty sigh and said, "Kurt, of course I'll come." Then, reaching up to rub his forehead tenderly, he added, "Is it tonight?"

"Wednesday at seven," Kurt corrected. Blaine's shoulder slouched in relief, nodding slowly as he took a final sip of his mocha, reaching over to squeeze his hand again, almost as if he couldn't help himself. "You'll have plenty of time to audition before then," he added dryly. "Although I'm pretty sure everyone is going to vote you in."

"We'll see," Blaine murmured, looking down at their hands and rubbing a thumb over Kurt's ring thoughtfully.

* * *

**Author's Notes**: Thank you all so much for your reviews! I will get around to them eventually, I promise. I've just been busier lately than anticipated, but they mean so much and they definitely encourage me to keep writing. Keep it up!


	7. 6: Appreciation

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Glee or any of its characters; Ryan Murphy and Co. hold that honor. I'm simply writing this for fun, not profit.

The loft was pleasantly warm when Kurt returned from the diner late Monday night.

Sliding the door shut carefully behind himself, he hung up his coat and called out, "Honey, I'm home!" He'd left Blaine in charge for a few hours so he could cover an emergency shift at the diner. While he was sorely tempted to refuse and insist on staying with his boyfriend all night as he had planned to, he knew that building a good rapport with Gunther was too important to pass up. And, all things considered, he had little to complain about: his hours were decent and the pay was good. Leaving Blaine for a few hours alone hadn't killed either of them, even though the agonizing five-hour shift had crawled by with only a handful of well-to-do patrons to distract him.

Keenly aware of the silence, he unlaced his boots and tucked them off to the side, calling out for good measure: "Blaaaine?" Following the heady aroma perforating the air, he almost groaned aloud at the sight of lasagna on the stove, its top covered in a layer of foil but still sinfully tempting. Utilizing every ounce of self-restraint he possessed, he turned away from the dish and untucked his work shirt from his pants instead, idling over to his room and tapping the door once before pushing it inward.

His heart immediately leaped to his throat when he saw Blaine and Rachel tangled on the bed, expression softening as he took in Rachel's hand curled in the fabric of his shirt and her mouth agape as she rested her head on his chest, Blaine's back pressed to the headboard. They were both deeply asleep, still in day clothes and clearly not intending to doze off, Blaine's socks poking out from a blanket he'd pulled over both of them.

Kurt hesitated only a moment before gently easing the door shut behind himself, tiptoeing back into the kitchen instead. His appetite somewhat subdued, he still heaped a hearty piece of lasagna onto a throw-away plate and settled down with _Downton Abbey _on the couch.

He didn't know precisely how he transitioned from a DA re-run to an older episode of _Jeopardy!_, but he was halfway through a self-congratulatory slice of orange sherbet when Blaine appeared, startling him out of his reverie.

"What is paleontology?" he murmured, sliding onto the couch beside Kurt, still sleep-warm and tousle-haired as Kurt startled a little before smiling and holding out his arms for him to snug into. "Hi," he greeted, voice deeper and a little husky around the edges. "When did you get back?"

"A little while ago," Kurt said, running his fingers idly through his hair and making a soft noise of disapproval at the gel. "You know how badly it cements when you don't rinse it out, Blaine."

"Mm-hm." Blaine nuzzled his cheek against Kurt's shoulder as Kurt sighed and set his unfinished sherbet aside, tangling their legs together properly. "What is Fermat's Last Theorem?" he added, almost idly, as the host announced, "_Correct!_" in a ringing tone.

"What _is _Fermat's Last Theorem?" Kurt asked, genuinely curious.

"I have no idea," Blaine said, letting out his breath in a slow gush of air that seemed to reverberate in Kurt's chest. "No one's proven it yet."

Kurt hummed, running his fingers in a slow arc down Blaine's spine rather than questioning it, feeling him shiver a little in response. "What did Rachel want?" he asked, non-judgmental, even as Blaine made an indecisive noise, somewhere between a grunt and a sigh.

"Company," he said slowly. "We were watching _The Sound of Music _for a while."

Kurt sensed that it was less about the movie than Blaine's presence, mulling that over in silence for a time before asking quietly, "Is she okay?"

Blaine made a noncommittal noise, rubbing a thumb over Kurt's chest absentmindedly, back and forth, back and forth. "She's coping," he said simply, neither confirmation nor denial of the truth, and Kurt couldn't argue with him. "She just . . . needs to feel loved, I think. That's all."

_I do love her, _Blaine's posture had told him, then, cradled protectively around her, shielding her from the painful truths that lurked beyond consciousness. _But I'm in love with you, _he ascertained, legs tangled together and breathing in tandem. Kurt tilted his head back a little to read the time and saw that it was just after midnight; Santana and Dani would be back soon.

Flicking the TV off with the remote, he settled back with a deeper sigh as he rolled completely onto his back, cushioned by pillows and comforted by Blaine's solidarity. "Thank you," he said, sincerely, uncertain what, precisely, he meant, but meaning it all the same.

"Any time," Blaine assured, more asleep than awake. "I left her with Bruce. I didn't even know you still had it."

Kurt blushed a little, tempted to say that he hadn't _meant _to keep the boyfriend pillow but there were definitely nights when he was glad he had. Except the real deal was so much better than any cotton-copy, he decided, just listening to Blaine's breathing as it slowly evened and then deepened and finally dropped off into sleep.

Closing his own eyes and pressing a lingering kiss to his temple, he tucked his cheek against Blaine's, curled his arms more loosely around his back, and followed him into unconsciousness, holding on and silently vowing, through thick and thin, never to let go again.

Because he never wanted to return to cotton-copies again. And he never wanted to imagine a future without Blaine.


	8. 7: Unwanted Accommodations

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Glee or any of its characters; Ryan Murphy and Co. hold that honor. I'm simply writing this for fun, not profit.

Blaine knew that living with Santana and Dani meant that life would be full of surprises. He hadn't known exactly how many surprises he was signing up for when he agreed to live at the loft with them, but their generosity in letting him stay at all had eclipsed any worry that he wouldn't get along with them. He had lived with _Cooper _for a decade: surely he could survive Santana and her equally adventurous girlfriend without any hassle.

That was before he noticed that Kurt and Santana got along about as well as two alley cats squabbling over frequently contested territory. Kurt would lay out his blueprints for a new outfit carefully over the kitchen table and lodge many and varied complaints whenever Santana came near his designs, and Santana would steal all the hot water in retaliation to his 'neurotic space-mongering tendencies.'

As far as Blaine was concerned, he felt more comfortable knowing that Kurt wasn't afraid to put his foot down. There was something sweet and companionable about sitting out in the lounge with Rachel cooking in the kitchen and Dani's feet on his lap as they watched a movie on the couch together (and Rachel would always watch with an air of distraction, regardless of what she was doing, because commentary could not wait until after the movie, it needed to be interjected frequently and robustly to have its full effect). Nevertheless, there was also a reprieve in retreating to Kurt's room (_his _room, too, he reminded himself, with that same fluttery feeling in his stomach that came from living together and not merely occupying the same boarding hall or being twenty minutes away) and knowing that Santana wouldn't follow.

And then Kurt made the mistake of working a little too much, picking up an extra shift at the diner even as he apologetically kissed Blaine before darting out the door. Disappointed that their precious summer was being slowly whittled away but still happy enough to spend his time playing cards with Elliot or practicing lines with Rachel, Blaine still noticed Dani eyeing the unoccupied space with the sort of Cheshire pleasure that made him instantly wary. The uneasy feeling worsened as he looked up from his book and saw her and Santana conferring in low voices in the kitchen, inaudible with both of his headphones in.

Nearly a week passed at the loft and nothing happened.

And then –

"We are not naming it _Steve._"

Almost since his arrival, Blaine had expected the standoff to occur, but he had wrongly assumed that both parties would be equally angry at the point of confrontation. He also thought that Santana would be the second person of interest, not her oddly enthusiastic and comparatively charming girlfriend, but he couldn't say that he was entirely surprised, either. Defying his expectations entirely, Dani looked positively gleeful while Kurt visibly worked to compose himself.

Dani's prize was curled defensively in her arms, a clear plastic cage containing a small Chilean rose tarantula.

The sheer amount of indignation in Kurt's voice might have been enough to convince Blaine – and anyone in the nearby vicinity – that he wasn't actually near hysteria, but Blaine knew him better. The fine tremor in his voice could easily have been mistaken for snappishness as Dani pouted and held up the tiny carry-home cage, a bright red bow tie on top clearly indicating its peace-offering status. As it was, Blaine himself didn't know what to say, staring at the tiny log – and even tinier creature underneath – in bewilderment.

"We can't have pets in the apartment," Dani began, looking down at the tarantula as though she couldn't fathom a reason _why _someone wouldn't want to own it before setting the cage down on the kitchen table and pouting at Kurt, "but there's nothing in the lease that says we can't own a tarantula."

Kurt scoffed as he folded his arms over his chest. Blaine idled closer to him and curled an arm around his waist, hoping to soothe some of his ruffled feathers; he already knew that mornings were Kurt's most stressful times, especially when he had a shift to run to. "What's the return policy?" Blaine asked, aiming for the middle ground as Dani continued to pout and look down at the clear glass cage.

"We can't send back Steve," she said, a little scandalized.

"We are _not _naming it _Steve,_" Kurt snapped again, voice ringing with tension. "Take it back right now."

"No."

And there was the determination, Blaine thought with an internal sigh, knowing with the same certainty as he did whenever Kurt set his shoulders and refused to give up a particular scarf or forgo a moisturizing routine that he wasn't going to win this battle. "She's mine and she's staying."

Kurt bristled, and for a moment Blaine wondered if he was going to actually find the nearest blunt object and pummel the cage into pieces before he made another exasperated noise and said, "I'm going to be late for work." Turning on his heel, he disappeared into their bedroom, leaving Blaine alone with Dani and – Steve.

Hesitating only a moment, he followed Kurt into the bedroom, catching him just as he was pulling on his red button up for work. Kurt jumped when Blaine shut the door behind himself, shoulders tense as he hurriedly buttoned up his uniform. "She can't just –" he began, flustered, and Blaine closed the distance between them so he could gently push Kurt's shaking hands aside, fixing the buttonholes and doing his shirt up instead. Kurt grabbed his vest and slung it over his shoulders, offering him a dubious look even as he smoothed the sides down.

"I'll talk to her," Blaine assured, kissing his cheek once while Kurt sighed.

"Just don't let her burn the house down," he warned, kissing him back properly before squeezing his waist lightly and slipping out the door.

Blaine considered following him immediately before drawing in a deep breath and waiting until he heard the main door slid shut instead. He didn't know _why _Dani had chosen a tarantula instead of a more innocuous family pet – a hamster or a fish would have been fine – but he suspected it had something to do with Santana. A lot to do with Santana, actually.

Inching out of the sanctuary of their bedroom, he blinked when he realized that the cage wasn't on the table anymore, a spike of panic subsiding when he spotted Dani sprawled out on the couch, the cage – red bow tie intact – sitting on the coffee table beside her.

The first words out of his mouth were simply, "Why a tarantula?"

"Because tarantulas are badass," Dani replied, flipping through their Netflix settings until she reached _The Avengers_. "Besides, you brought a piano as a house-warming gift. This is mine."

"Can't it stay somewhere else?" Blaine asked, sitting cross-legged on the nearest chair, eyes drawn to the TV in spite of himself.

"Where else would she live?" Dani asked, settling back against the couch while Steve did his best to crawl under the sand in his cage.

Blaine opened his mouth to respond before scooting back in his chair as far as he could when she held out the cage to him. Rolling her eyes, she added, "What are you afraid of?"

Gingerly closing his fingers around the sides of the cage, he looked down at the log where Steve had seemingly made her permanent residence. Setting the cage on the table beside him and adjusting the bow on top as it threatened to tip over, he sighed. "What's wrong with a fish?"

"Tarantulas are hardier," Dani quipped, kicking up her legs more comfortably as she settled in to watch the movie.

"Fish are nice," Blaine pointed out, drawn to the movie in spite of himself. "And they're low maintenance." Then, unable to help himself, he asked, "Did you name her after Captain America?"

"Uh huh." Dani picked up a magazine from the couch, flipping through it absentmindedly. "Now shut up. We're not returning her. You don't send back family."

"She's hardly family."

"_You're _hardly family," Dani reminded.

Blaine scowled, sparing a glance at Steve as she crawled out from underneath her log, poking the air skeptically. As soon as he moved to adjust the bow, she shimmied back underneath, out of sight in an instant. "Don't scare her," Dani chided.

"I'm not scaring her." Blaine plucked the bow off top, wondering how many pet stores New York _had _that might accept an unwanted tarantula. "What kind of tarantula is she?"

"Chilean rose," Dani replied, still flipping through the magazine. "And if you try to kidnap her, I'll shave your eyebrows in your sleep."

Blaine cringed.

Debate closed.

. o .

In Blaine's eyes, at least.

"Kurt, honey. Please let me in."

"_No._"

Blaine looked down at the tarantula curled up comfortably on his palm, glancing back mournfully at the door to their loft. "If we keep her in a dark-tinted cage, would that help?"

"_No, _Blaine. Get rid of it."

"She won't be in our room," Blaine wheedled. "Dani agreed to keep her out of sight, if you wanted."

A doubtful huff of air, almost a laugh.

"Okay, no, she didn't," Blaine conceded, shoulder pressed to the door as he kept Steve perched in one hand. "She's harmless! They're non-venomous. _And _they –"

"I don't want to hear it!" Kurt called back in a high, thin tone. "Just get rid of it!"

Blaine could hear a shuffle inside before Elliot emerged, looking down at the tarantula and grinning. "Chilean rose?"

Blaine blinked, impressed in spite of himself. "How did you –"

"They're really friendly," he said, holding out his hand. After a moment's hesitation, Steve crawled over to him and he grinned. "Hi, sweetheart," he cooed. "How would you like to come scare the hell out of _my_ roommate?"

Blaine leaned back against the wall, listening to the muffled sounds of Rachel and Kurt arguing – he couldn't believe that Rachel was already in favor of keeping it – before focusing his attention back on Elliot. His natural ease even locked out of the loft with a relative stranger's tarantula on his hand made Blaine momentarily jealous; he fit right in here.

"How did Kurt ever say no to you?" he asked, meant to be teasing, but it came out oddly serious, and he didn't mitigate the statement with a quip.

Elliot laughed, open, rich, and it was good that Blaine was already so _Kurt's_, because he knew that a laugh like that alone would have had him serenading him in the middle of the nearest GAP – or, at least, New York's equivalent – without thinking. He blushed at the memory and recovered with a quick, "You don't have to answer that."

"No, it's fine, really," Elliot assured, careful to keep Steve balanced in his palm as he added, "I came across too strong. Once I toned down my look and agreed to work with Kurt more, then he let me in." He smiled at Blaine, nudging his knee as he added, "Do you think he'll let you join?"

Blaine struggled to find the right words, not wanting to come across as too arrogant or feeble. "I wouldn't want to throw off your dynamic," he began, twisting his head to stare at the wood underneath it when he heard Dani enter the fray, their voices reaching an indecipherable level, "and I know how important it is for all of you."

"I think we could make room for one more," Elliot said with a grin, nudging his knee again. "Come on, you don't have to lie to me. I know you want in. Everyone wants to be part of an indie band," he added, leaning in conspiratorially to say it.

Blaine grinned as he held out his hand for Steve, Elliot surrendering her almost reluctantly as she crawled back and curled up in his palm once more. "I don't know," he admitted, looking down at Steve and cupping both hands so she could curl up between them. "I'd love to. Being on stage is . . . amazing. I guess we'll just have to see how the audition goes."

"You'll kill it," Elliot assured, pushing himself to his feet and holding out a hand to Blaine. After carefully transferring Steve to one palm, he accepted the hand up, adding a quick, "Thanks," as he did so.

"Don't mention it."

Elliot flashed a bright smile at him before sliding the door to the loft open, ignoring the rabble within as he sauntered inside and made himself at home. Blaine edged inside with Steve and scurried over to her box on the table next to one of the arm chairs, gently depositing her back inside and relaxing as he closed the lid over top of it.

He didn't even know _why _he'd agreed to hold her, but as soon as Dani did and insisted, well. He couldn't exactly turn her down in good conscience. He wasn't scared of spiders. And Steve was nice. When she just curled up and stayed in his palm, he could almost forget she was a spider at all.

Kurt couldn't, and his ruffled-feather look hadn't abated in the slightest as he looked at Blaine. Approaching him slowly, not wanting to startle him, Blaine held out his hands and, after a deliberate pause, Kurt took them, allowing Blaine to tug him close for a hug. Tense in his arms, Kurt gradually relaxed with a sigh as he squeezed Blaine back and released him, glancing over at the living room area warily.

"You know, I don't mind taking her off your hands, if it's really that much of a problem," Elliot said, setting up the pieces for another game of cards and looking over at Blaine expectantly. "I used to have one as a kid."

"I bought her," Dani pouted, leaning over his shoulder to take the deck from him and shuffling it quickly. She settled down on the couch and called out, "Babe, are you in?"

"Next round," Santana replied, and Dani nodded before dealing out four hands.

"If you let me have the second shower, I might consider it," Dani added brightly while Kurt groaned and settled beside the coffee table on the floor. Blaine could see that he was as far from Steve as he could be, perched next to the chair as she was. Settling in beside him and picking up his stack of cards, he glanced over at Rachel as she put on a coat, reminding them that she would be back before midnight as she departed and slid the door shut behind herself. Late shifts, Blaine thought musingly, were a mixed blessing: ample shower time, but missed 'family' time.

He liked family time. And, with a smile that he unintentionally but freely shared with Dani as he met her eyes across the table, he couldn't help but recognize that Steve was included in their little circle of misfits.

_Family, _he mused, rubbing Kurt's arm as the game began.

If nothing else, at least having Steve around meant that Kurt stayed pressed to his side the entire game, relaxing against his arm and even more so once the tequila was brought out.

Blaine could definitely get used to having Steve around if these were the consequences.


End file.
